The Naughty List
by Storywriter55
Summary: Neal lands himself on the naughty list when he becomes over invested in Sara's pregnancy. Part of the Milestones series (4.9 years)
1. Chapter 1

(4.9 years)

 **Chapter 1**

'Mozzie, I really don't have time for this' Sara grumbled with more than a tinge of impatience in her voice.

'You don't have _time_? For the biggest hoax in history?' he answered bitingly.

Sara rolled her eyes at the bespectacled man as he continued, undaunted. '…because if they can stage a fake moon landing, they can fake just about anything' he moaned.

'Mozzie, please! Can we stick to the subject? I've got to get back to the office' Sara complained.

They were sitting in a little coffee shop a stone's throw from the offices of Sterling Bosch as Mozzie prepared to give Sara a lead on the fencing of a Botticelli - a Christmas themed painting that had been missing in action for over fifty years.

'So, where and when is the swap going down?' she asked, pulling her scarf tightly around her shoulders.

Mozzie gave her the evil eye. 'Can you scream that any louder? The guy across the street didn't hear you!' he whispered, obviously annoyed at what he perceived to be her lack of discretion.

Getting leads from Mozzie was often more trouble than it was worth but this painting had been on the Sterling Bosch watch list for a long time. Sara couldn't believe it when he'd called to tell her he had a lead and that one of his sworn enemies was the fence for the transaction.

'So, who are you exacting revenge on this time?' she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

He glanced around the café, making sure no one was listening. 'Ronnie the Shark, he's the lowest of the low' he murmured with a scowl.

'Ronnie the _Shark_?' she repeated, incredulous. 'Why do crooks always have such flamboyant names?'

'He got his nickname after word got around he'd taken a bite out of some guy's ear when he screwed him over on a deal. I recommend you keep your distance from him' Mozzie warned. 'Or at the very least, wear a hat.'

Sara rolled her eyes once more. Only Mozzie… She gave him a look of pure annoyance as she waited for some _useful_ information.

'I'll get back to you with the details but it's going down in the next few days' Mozzie announced with a flourish.

Sara stood and stretched her back. The not so discreet baby bump she was sporting was getting bigger by the day and Mozzie's eyes were drawn to it immediately.

'Are you sure you don't want to send one of your underlings out on this one. I don't think Neal will be very happy with me when he finds out I sent you to swim with the sharks.'

'Don't worry about Neal. I can handle him' she said as she grabbed her warm winter coat and wrapped herself in it.

Truth was, Neal had been even _more_ overprotective this second time around and she was only four months along; it was going to be a long nine months.

'Keep me posted Mozzie' Sara said as she prepared to leave. 'I _really_ want this one.'

Mozzie watched her leave, noticing the slightest waddle in her gait - very un-Sara Ellis like - an observation he would definitely be keeping to himself. She made her way through the coffee shop, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that she was being watched. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she was followed; fences and thieves knew how aggressive insurance companies could be in their attempts to recover stolen goods and they didn't give up those goods without a fight. Now that she was once again carrying precious cargo, she couldn't afford to take any chances and these days, her radar seemed to be particularly attuned to her environment.

As she reached the door, she glanced back at the assorted group of individuals who were having a late lunch and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she pulled up the collar of her winter coat and stepped out onto the busy street.

WCWCWC

Neal pulled the wool cap snugly over his ears, adjusted the glasses he was wearing and stuck his nose back in his newspaper as Sara sauntered by, none the wiser.

Even _he_ had to admit, he'd become a little obsessed lately. What had begun as reasonable concern for his newly pregnant wife had morphed into a veritable obsession as of late. After years of trying, Sara had finally gotten pregnant and now that Hope had started school, Neal had way too much time on his hands - two seemingly unrelated facts that added up to a deadly combination.

Ever since he'd come off anklet four years earlier, he'd spent most of his time keeping the home fires burning, cooking meals, gardening, providing child care, adding to his collection of original art and generally trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up. Sterling Bosch, Finch and Johns and Americana Insurance were just three of the companies which had used his services for art authentication but it didn't amount to full time work and even though Peter would have been more than happy to welcome him back to the unit full time, Neal had no interest in resuming a career with the FBI.

He peeked out over his newspaper and watched surreptitiously as Mozzie put on his coat and walked out. Stalking his own wife and his old friend was tricky work and although he'd never been much of a 'disguise' kind of guy, Neal had been compelled to pull together a couple of alter egos in order not to be recognized by the cunning pair. So far, so good, although he knew his luck wouldn't hold out forever. One of them was bound to recognize him eventually if he wasn't careful.

He'd been begging his wife to stay out of the fray and send some of her staff on what he deemed were the more dangerous recoveries but she'd been adamant that she could handle herself, pregnant or not. Of course if Mozzie was involved, it was a sure bet that there were some unsavory characters involved as well - where Mozzie went, trouble followed - and if Sara had kept this from him, it was because she knew he wouldn't approve of her involvement in this particular recovery.

He waited for Mozzie to disappear up the street and he ambled out into the cold December afternoon; school would be out in a couple of hours and he had to make it back to White Plains to pick up his little girl.

WCWCWC

'So, how was school today?' Neal asked as the family sat down to a dinner of meatloaf and roasted potatoes.

Neal had made it back home in time to take off his 'stalker' attire and stash it in the back of the closet before heading back out to pick up his daughter at school. If he was going to do a decent job of spying on his wife, he knew better than to do it in any of his own clothes and he'd invested in a couple of nondescript outfits, baseball caps, hats and glasses - even a moustache he hadn't yet had the chance to try out.

'Good' Hope said, with her mouth full. 'Mrs. Winters said if we practice really hard for the Christmas concert, she'll give us a special treat on the last day of school.'

'Oh, yeah?' said Sara, absentmindedly. It wasn't lost on Neal that his wife's mind seemed to be focussed on work these days as she wrapped up a couple of big recoveries and worked on whatever it was she'd been plotting with Mozzie.

'What about you, honey? Any new cases?' Neal asked innocently.

Sara knew better than to come clean; Neal had been mollycoddling her ever since that September morning when they'd discovered with utter joy that she had a bun in the oven. Her long awaited pregnancy was more than enough ammunition for Neal to be overprotective and she wasn't about to give him anything else to fret about.

'Same old, same old' she fibbed as she poked at her food.

'Daddy, will you take me to see Santa this weekend?' Hope asked.

'Sure' Neal said with a soft smile. 'I heard he's visiting White Plains Mall on Saturday.'

Sara gave him a knowing smile; he was the most wonderful dad, thoughtful, caring and she loved watching him interact with Hope.

'Maybe we can do a little bit of Christmas shopping while we're there' Sara added gleefully.

'Daddy, how many more sleeps before Santa comes?' Hope asked as she looked from her mom to her dad.

'Well, let's see' Neal answered as he glanced over at the Advent calendar hanging on the fridge. 'Eight more' he concluded as Hope pouted.

'That's too many' she complained.

'Well, Santa's got a lot of work to do before the big night. He's probably thinking that eight sleeps isn't nearly enough' Neal countered as he winked at Sara.

'Eat up, sweet pea' he added. 'Maybe you and I will have time to go down to the studio after dinner.'

'Studio!' Hope screamed as she belched loudly. 'Oops, sorry!'

WCWCWC

Neal curled up behind Sara, his hand snaking around her to rest on her round belly as he cooed.

'How's our little baby boy tonight?' he asked as his lips lingered on her shoulder.

'He's good. I thought I might have felt a kick earlier… but it was probably just what I had for lunch' she said as she placed her hand on top of Neal's.

'What did you have for lunch?' Neal asked, anxious to see if she would 'fess up about the avocado salad he'd seen her feasting on during her clandestine meeting with Mozzie.

Sara took a moment to answer; she was nowhere near as good as her husband at fabricating answers off the cuff. 'I… just had a sandwich at my desk' she lied.

So much for truth and honesty in marriage, Neal thought, fully aware that he wasn't much better than she was - considering he'd been following her around New York for days, dressed up in all kinds of weird disguises.

'It _might_ have been a kick' he said knowingly, returning to the business of rubbing her belly. 'Almost sixteen weeks… you should be feeling him move anytime now' Neal added with a proud smile.

As the resident expert on all things related to her pregnancy, he was more than happy to keep her informed of what was happening inside her womb - on a daily basis. Sara worried her husband might be over invested in her pregnancy and she hated knowing he worried so much about her when she could take perfectly good care of herself. If only she could get him focussed on something other than her burgeoning belly, they would all be better off for it.

'Honey, I've been thinking. Why don't you see if Peter has any work for you at the Bureau. Maybe a nice juicy case to sink your teeth into…' Sara suggested, anything to keep him from coddling her.

'What? Don't you think I've got enough on my hands with that contract I just got with Finch and Johns? That'll keep me busy for a few days… and Hope gets out of school early and then there are meals and laundry and to top it all off, Christmas is just over a week away' Neal complained, stopping short of adding his daily outings as a stalker to his long list of chores.

'Poor baby!' Sara said with mock sympathy as she turned in bed to look at him, lips pouting.

'And besides' Neal continued, undeterred. 'I've been working on a little something special down in the studio… for a special someone. So don't go snooping down there!' he warned as he wagged a finger in her face.

'Studio' surprises were the best, especially around special occasions like her birthday and Christmas. That meant Neal was painting something special to give to her and she couldn't wait for Christmas morning to find out what it was.

'Oh yeah?' she said as she kissed his lips playfully. 'Any chance I could worm it out of you?'

'I'm a vault' he responded as he kissed her back.

'You know, some expert safecrackers have been know to crack vaults…' she began flirtatiously, putting her mouth to good use and nibbling on his bottom lip. 'I could certainly make it work your while…'

'Shhhh' he whispered as he lifted his head off the pillow in reaction to a soft rustle coming from the hallway outside their room. 'Was that Hope?'

Sara pulled away to listen; their bedroom door had been left open and they both knew better than to get into anything more involved than a little smooching when Hope was within ear range. The house grew quiet and Neal resumed his position, arms around Sara.

'I talked to Peter today, it sounds like his Uncle Nick has gotten really ill and might not live till Christmas' Neal said, suddenly serious.

'Oh no! Which one was he again?' Sara asked as she thought back to the many family members they'd met while on summer vacation at Peter's parents' place in upstate New York.

A few feet away, Hope lay in bed, hearing the soft, melodic voices of her parents as they chatted nearby. She couldn't sleep so she tiptoed out into the hallway and sat herself down just outside her parents' bedroom door, her pink elephant tucked under her arm.

She liked to listen to her mom and dad's soft voices as they prepared to drift off to sleep. She knew better than to interrupt them when their bedroom door was closed but all bets were off when it was open. She'd been struggling somewhat with her new routine and Neal and Sara had found her sound asleep on the floor right outside their bedroom door on a couple of mornings since school had started.

She lay down on the carpet in the hallway, hugging her plush toy against her as she listened attentively, the voices of her parents, slowly lulling her to sleep.

'You know, big burly guy, white beard, round tummy' she heard her dad say.

'Oh yeah… he's so nice and so generous' Sara recalled as she thought of the gentle giant of a man they'd met that summer.

Peter's uncle Nick was a carpenter and he lived down the road from Peter's parents' place. He had lovingly crafted the one of a kind rocker that sat in their basement waiting for their son's arrival and upon completion of the beautifully crafted chair, he'd refused to accept any payment from the Caffreys.

'This is his busy time of year too, with all the Christmas orders' Neal said, sadly. 'Apparently, his health won't hold out much longer.'

'That's so sad' Sara agreed, curling up against Neal's chest. 'A death at Christmastime is sadder than at any other time of year.'

Hope ears perked up as she listened. Somebody was dying and her mom sounded really sad about it.

'Apparently, he makes all his own deliveries and he packs everything up in a sleigh and goes from house to house' Neal explained.

'Awww. That sounds really sweet' Sara said with a sigh.

Hope sat up as she zeroed in on her parents' whispered conversation. Were they talking about Santa? Was Santa sick?

'Apparently, he won't live for more than a week or so' Neal said, his voice somber.

Santa was dying… right before Christmas? Hope frowned and slithered back to her bed, curling up under the blankets and holding her pink elephant tightly against her. That was horrible news! How could Santa be dying when all the boys and girls around the world were anxiously awaiting his yearly visit? Maybe if she closed her eyes really tight and wished with all her might, he would get better.

'That was definitely a noise' Sara said as Neal's feet hit the ground. He skulked over to their bedroom door, checking the hallway to make sure Hope wasn't lying nearby on the floor and he tiptoed into her room, finding her huddled under the blankets, quiet as a mouse.

He snuck back into their bedroom and slipped in between the sheets and into Sara's waiting arms.

'False alarm. She's sound asleep' he murmured as he wagged his eyebrows at Sara suggestively.

'Close the bedroom door' she whispered naughtily.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

'Anything new on Sullivan?' Peter asked the Harvard crew assembled around the conference room table.

'We've still got surveillance on him and he was spotted meeting with a local fence yesterday' Jones said as he put up photographs of a very sordid looking older man in deep conversation with a known fence - Ronnie, the Shark.

'He's getting ready to move something' Peter said as he rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

Catching Sullivan would be a coup; the successful thief had been operating out of Detroit and Chicago for the better part of a decade but thus far, he'd managed to elude the FBI, never getting his hands dirty and using local fences to cash in on millions in stolen art from his private, ill obtained 'collection'. The Bureau's intel had placed him in New York and Peter was pleased that the covert surveillance they'd had on him for the past five weeks was finally paying off.

'Can we lean on this guy to lead us to Sullivan?' Peter asked, speaking of the fence.

'I don't know, boss' Diana responded. 'He's pretty loyal to the hand that feeds him. Remember when we brought him in last year; he never turned on his source.'

Peter let out a sigh of frustration. They would just have to keep up the surveillance of both men and see where it would eventually lead. Catching Sullivan holding the goods was their best case scenario, otherwise they would just follow the fence to an eventual meet and put the pressure on him to divulge his source.

'Agent Burke' one of the newer probies said as he popped his head into the conference room. 'There's someone here to see you.'

Peter craned his neck and spotted Sara Ellis standing directly in front of Neal's old desk in the bullpen. It wasn't very often she visited the office now that Neal didn't work there anymore.

'All right, everyone back to work!' Peter said as the group disbanded and returned to their respective desks. 'Send her up.'

'Sara!' Diana said as the women crossed paths and hugged briefly. 'You look great! How are you feeling?'

'I'm good. Finally stopped having morning sickness just last week' Sara responded as she patted her belly.

'How's Neal? We haven't seen him in a few weeks?' the agent asked.

'Busy… although, to be honest, I wish he were just a little bit busier' she said as Diana frowned.

'He acts like I'm the only woman on the planet who's ever been pregnant and he treats me like I'm made of porcelain. It would all be very sweet if it wasn't so suffocating' Sara said with a laugh.

Diana smiled in response. She knew Neal Caffrey well enough to know that when it came to his wife, the man could be cloying at times. 'I get it. Well, say hi to him. Tell him we miss him…' Diana said as she hesitated. '… on second thought, don't tell him that. He's got enough of a swelled head as it is.'

'Sara!' Peter called out from the top of the stairs. 'Come on up!'

The women parted ways and Sara climbed the few steps up to Peter's office, stepping in and giving her husband's best friend a hug hello.

'What brings you to White Collar?' he asked. 'Do you need help on a case?'

They'd had dinner together just two days earlier and Sara hadn't mentioned anything about needing to speak to him; whatever she wanted to discuss was likely not of a personal nature. She took the seat in front of Peter's desk, the same one Neal had sat in countless times over the years and Peter smiled to himself as he recalled his ex-CI, sitting there, making mischief as he always did.

'Actually…' Sara began, hesitant. 'I was hoping I could get your help with a… situation.'

Peter listened in silence, waiting to be enlightened.

'I think I'm being followed' she blurted out as Peter raised his eyebrows in question.

Sara Ellis had probably been followed countless times over the years; whatever _this_ was, it was enough for her to come to him for help and that was saying a lot.

'Look, I don't want to sound paranoid' she continued. 'And it's not like I've never been followed before but…'

'So, what's different this time?' Peter asked as he leaned in.

'Well, _this,_ for one thing' she said, patting her protruding belly. 'And this recovery I'm working on… well, it's really high profile' she said as Peter's ears perked up.

'I can't give you any details but let's just say it's a piece we've had on our radar for years now' Sara said. 'And the fence is rather… nasty.'

'Why don't you let another investigator take this one?' Peter suggested.

'Because…' she began, her tone impatient. 'I'm not going to be… bullied into not doing my job, Peter!'

'Sara… what about Neal? What does he say about all this?' Peter asked, hoping to bring Sara to her senses.

Sara's eyes dropped to her lap as she avoided Peter's probing gaze. When she'd decided to seek Peter's help, she'd known that the most delicate part of the operation would be to convince the FBI agent to go behind his best friend's back.

'He… well, I haven't really told him about it' she admitted as Peter sighed.

'Sara!' he countered, his voice full of reproach. 'Why not?'

She became agitated as only Sara Ellis could and that, mixed with the hormones coursing through her body, made for an explosive mix.

'Peter!' she yelled, louder than she'd meant. 'This isn't the middle ages. I'm a grown woman, in case you hadn't noticed and I don't need my husband's permission to do anything, including carrying out the job I'm paid to do.'

'Sara…' Peter attempted a second time. 'Neal's just looking out for you. You can't blame him if he worries about you… especially in your… condition.'

'Last time I checked, pregnancy wasn't a disease, Peter' she continued, her voice impatient. 'Neal acts like I'm… Humpty Dumpty and I'm going to break into a million pieces.'

She watched as Peter reacted to the wrath she'd unleashed and she toned it down a notch.

'I just… well, I don't want Neal to worry. If he finds out I'm being followed, he'll… well, there's no telling what he'll do. Now, are you going to help me out or not?' she asked, her voice softening somewhat.

Peter sighed. He certainly wasn't going to leave Sara in a lurch; after all, she'd collaborated on countless cases with the FBI. The least he could do was help her out when she needed it.

'Alright' he said. 'But I want to go on record as saying I think you should at least tell Neal that you think someone's following you…' he said as she continued to glare at him.

He gave a quick glance down towards the bullpen, spotting his new probie, Malcolm Wilson. The young man was enthusiastic but he lacked the experience to be involved in what was shaping up to be a dangerous case as the unit attempted to set a trap for Jerome Sullivan. Maybe he could put the young keener to good use and do a good turn for the Sterling Bosch investigator at the same time.

'How about this?' Peter offered. 'Until you finish with this recovery, I'll put someone on you. That way, we can keep tabs on anyone who might be following you.'

Sara nodded in agreement; that sounded like a reasonable plan. At least, there would be someone watching her back and she could finally find out if her suspicions were founded.

'Thanks Peter' she said, her voice calmer.

He smiled and watched as she frowned. 'And Neal never finds out!' she warned with an icy glare. 'If he does… I'll hold you responsible, do you hear me?'

Peter quivered although he tried to cover it up with false bravado. 'Fine' he said. 'Just promise me you'll think about telling him.'

She rolled her eyes in response and watched as Peter stood to call her new tail up to the office.

'Wilson!' he called out from the balustrade, giving the man the double finger point.

Sara let out a sigh of relief. Mission accomplished.

WCWCWC

'Hope? Are you alright?' Mrs. Winters asked as she spotted the four-year-old looking forlorn in the schoolyard.

The usually boisterous child was sitting quietly instead of running around, playing in the freshly fallen snow with her best friend Olivia Mason and the twenty other kindergarteners in her class.

Hope shook her head and frowned. She hadn't wanted to share what she'd heard her parents discussing for fear of making it come true. Maybe if she just concentrated really hard, Santa would get better and the millions of boys and girls around the world wouldn't be disappointed on Christmas Eve.

Moira Winters sat on the stoop next to the child and put an arm around her. 'Why are you so sad?'

Hope shrugged; she wasn't sure she wanted Mrs. Winters to know the horrible news.

'Come on, Hope. Why don't you come with me and help me get the class ready for our Christmas concert practice.'

Christmas, Hope thought… Christmas without Santa.

WCWCWC

Neal put on the wool coat he'd picked up at the local thrift shop and studied his reflection in the front hall mirror. No matter what he did, that moustache always seemed crooked and he fiddled with it as he tried to set it right. The lengths to which he'd go to in order to keep his wife and son safe were over the top - even by his standards… but it was worth it if it kept anything from happening to Sara. From what he knew of Mozzie's unseemly associates, most of them were pretty nasty and vengeful and knowing Sara would be going after one of Mozzie's sworn enemies was not comforting in the least. He'd overheard Moz and Sara whispering the night before as he'd pretended to clean up after dinner; they'd been plotting to meet again today at their regular haunt. He glanced at his watch; he had just enough time to make it to Manhattan before Sara left her office to meet Mozzie.

WCWCWC

Malcolm Wilson waited outside the offices of Sterling Bosch, rubbing his hands together and stomping his feet on the slushy pavement in an effort to keep warm. He knew he had to pay his dues but he couldn't help being disappointed that his boss had him shadowing an insurance investigator when he'd been dying to be recruited for the Sullivan case. At 24 years of age, Malcolm was a newbie, a recent graduate from Quantico, and he was more than eager to make his mark on the world as a top notch FBI agent. He had nothing but admiration for his boss, Special Agent Peter Burke, but he was impatient for a nice, juicy case to sink his teeth into - and this… well, this sure as hell wasn't it.

The door to the building opened and out walked his prey, well, his mark and he saw her give him a small nod as she spotted him and headed down the street. Malcolm's eyes swept the sidewalk, up and down, as he created some distance between himself and Sara Ellis. There were throngs of people out on the streets; after all, it was the week before Christmas in downtown Manhattan and everybody and their uncle was out running errands during their lunch break. He watched the redhead scurry down the street toward the little café where she'd be meeting her contact and he hurried to follow her, eyes peeled for any potential stalkers.

WCWCWC

Sara stepped out of the lobby of the high rise building on Second Street and onto the sidewalk, immediately spotting her tail across the street. She hoped he would be discreet and not scare away whoever the hell had been following her around for the past week. She pulled on her gloves, pushing ahead on the busy street as she headed to her rendezvous with Mozzie. He'd promised specifics this time - a time and place for the exchange; if he didn't spill the beans, she swore she would throttle him. The coffee shop came into view and she hurried in, spotting Mozzie with his back up against the far wall where he always sat - keeping a close eye on the comings and goings. He kept his head down, pretending not to see her and she walked past the busy patrons and stood directly in front of him.

'Hey, Mozzie' she said as she hung her coat on the back of her chair. 'Can we make this quick? I have a 1:00 appointment.'

'Well, hello to you, too' Mozzie answered, seemingly vexed by her lack of decorum.

She rolled her eyes and faced the waiter, ordering a tea and sandwich and she sat and turned her attention back to her informant.

'So?' she asked.

Mozzie's eyes wandered and he seemed to spot something worrisome nearby.

'Sara, I think you're being followed' he announced as his eyes returned to look at her.

'Full length dark brown coat with leather trim, fedora, wingtips, leather gloves?' she asked, nonchalant.

Mozzie frowned. 'Yeah, who is he?'

'Nothing for you to worry about' she said dismissively.

'Seriously?' Mozzie responded. 'You can't do _that_ to someone like me…'

'Fine' she said, shaking her head; the little man drove her absolutely mad. 'I just thought someone might be following me and I asked Peter to cover me for a couple of days and see if they could spot anything.'

'Following you!' Mozzie repeated, in total paranoia mode. 'What if it's Ronnie the Shark?'

'Mozzie, calm down. It's probably nothing… and believe it or not, this recovery is not the only thing I'm working on at the moment' she said, growing impatient. 'Now, can we please get on with it? When's the trade on the Botticelli going down?'

Mozzie looked down and suddenly a hat and a pair of sunglasses materialized, accessories which he proceeded to don as if it was the most natural thing to do in the middle of a busy coffee shop.

'Tuesday afternoon, two o'clock at the abandoned Navy Hospital in Brooklyn' Mozzie muttered, so low she had to make him repeat.

'And Mozzie, stay away this time' she warned as she spotted him nervously tapping the table with his fingertips. It was an unfortunate byproduct of their little arrangement that Mozzie liked to witness his vindication, watching from a safe distance while his ex-associate was robbed of his hard-earned commission and hence, being appropriately punished for whatever perceived slight he was responsible for in Mozzie's eyes. Otherwise, it wasn't nearly as much fun to be ratting them out.

'But that's the whole idea' Mozzie whined as Sara gave him the evil eye.

Some days, dealing with Mozzie was worse than dealing with her four-year-old.

WCWCWC

Neal watched surreptitiously as Mozzie donned a most unconvincing disguise; leave it to Mozzie to bring attention to himself when he was trying so hard to be inconspicuous. Neal had been lying in wait, considering he had the advantage of knowing where his wife and ex-partner in crime would be meeting. He didn't worry so much about Sara when she was in the safety of her office building and thus far, his little spying excursions had been limited to those occasions when Sara left the confines of Sterling Bosch to meet with fences or contacts.

He glanced suspiciously at the man who'd arrived shortly behind Sara. He'd recognized him as a G-man the second he'd walked in: that bulky Brooks Brothers suit, that crappy haircut, those horrible wingtips. The man seemed particularly interested in what was going on at Mozzie and Sara's table and Neal noticed how he'd been sweeping the coffee shop with his eyes. He brought his eyes back down to his tablet, pretending to read as he felt the moustache tickling his upper lip and he brought his hand up to his mouth to make certain the damn thing hadn't shifted. Why would the FBI be tailing Sara? Maybe this case was even more dangerous than he'd first thought. The young FBI agent's eyes swept the coffee shop and Neal realized his own furtive glances towards Sara and Mozzie's table seemed to have attracted the man's attention. The last thing he needed was to get made by the Bureau and have to explain why he was sitting around a coffee shop in a crappy disguise, spying on his own wife.

Neal made quick work of collecting his things and was safely outside and out of sight when he spotted the young man come running out in hot pursuit.

Luckily, Neal Caffrey still had the uncanny talent of disappearing in the blink of an eye - which is exactly what he did.

WCWCWC

'Sir, there was a man there who seemed awfully interested in what was going on at Ms Ellis' table' the agent reported as Peter paced behind his desk.

'And you let him get away?' Peter stated, unimpressed.

'Sir, I was right on him. One minute he was there and the next… well, he'd disappeared' Wilson explained.

So much for trying to impress the boss.

'What did he look like?' Peter asked, hoping to get _some_ useful information, considering the young agent's failed attempt at getting his hands on Sara's stalker.

'Caucasian. Medium build. He was wearing a knitted cap so I couldn't get a look at his hair but he had a moustache and… glasses' he added, realizing he'd been duped.

'A moustache and glasses?' Peter repeated, unimpressed. 'Like, do you think he might have been wearing a disguise, Sherlock?'

The young man's eyes fell to the floor, embarrassed. 'I suppose, sir' he mumbled.

'Get back out there and don't let her out of your sight until she's safely home. Do you hear me?' Peter said loudly.

'Yes, sir' the hapless agent said as he scurried out.

Good help was hard to find.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sara drove up Meadowbrook Street, spotting Neal and Hope in the distance as they put the finishing touches on Neal's annual outdoor Christmas display. To Sara's chagrin, ever since they'd moved to White Plains, Neal had morphed into one of those suburbanites who delighted in decorating their front yard with gaudy Christmas lights and over the top decorations - the flashier, the better. Of course, it didn't help that the neighborhood held an annual house decorating contest which only served to exacerbate her husband's still very much alive competitive streak and seemed to have robbed him of his usual great taste in all things. Neal had been adamant this was 'his' year, considering his recent acquisition of a giant Santa pulled by all nine of his reindeer - which was now displayed prominently right on their front lawn for the whole world to see. Sara blinked at the gaudy display; you could probably spot that damn thing clear from outer space!

'Daddy! Mommy's home!' Hope called out as the car came up the driveway.

'Wow!' Sara said as she stepped out of the car - although the tone of her voice left her exclamation up to interpretation.

'You like it?' Neal asked, his chest pumped up and a proud smile on his face.

'It's… _something_ , that's for sure' she said as she made her way to deposit a kiss on the top of Hope's head.

A nondescript car drove by the house without attracting the attention of either one of them - thanks to those really scary looking reindeer.

'You hungry?' Neal asked as he kissed his wife hello. 'Dinner's ready.'

WCWCWC

The White Plains Mall was overflowing with last minute shoppers as Neal drove around the parking lot a fourth time, keeping his eyes peeled for an available spot. He spotted a car leaving and made his move - even though the location of said parking spot meant a five minute walk back to the main entrance.

'You excited about seeing Santa?' Sara asked as she and Neal held Hope's tiny hands and made their way inside.

'Yes…' Hope said hesitantly. Maybe she'd gotten it all wrong, maybe Santa wasn't sick after all. She was about to see for herself and she felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach as they approached the entrance to the mall.

The trio fought the crowds and made it to Santa's Workshop, only to find a sign saying Santa was out feeding his reindeer and would be back in fifteen minutes.

'I can stand in line with her if you want to run a couple of errands' Neal offered as Sara checked out the nearby stores.

'Great. I have a couple of surprises I still need to get' she said as she wagged her eyebrows at Neal.

'Oh, and honey, don't forget to ask Santa for something special for me' Sara said to her daughter before walking away. 'Maybe something sparkly…' she added as she winked at Neal.

Sara had never been very subtle when it came to dropping hints but, over time, Neal had learned to ignore her, preferring to trust his gut when it came to gifts for his wife - so far, his instincts had never let him down.

'You're being awfully quiet, sweet pea' Neal said as he picked Hope up in his arms and touched her forehead, checking for signs of fever. 'Are you sure you're feeling alright?'

Hope nodded, eyes peeled on the giant chair that awaited Santa's return.

'Do you know what you want to ask Santa for Christmas?' he added.

She shrugged. Something was definitely not right, Neal thought. Hope could never be described as quiet or reserved and yet, here she was, looking like she was about to step into the dentist's chair instead of Santa's lap.

After what seemed like an eternity, old St Nick was finally spotted, trudging his way back to his chair. Even from a distance, Hope could hear him coughing and she winced in response.

It took another fifteen minutes or so for the two of them to make their way to the front of the line and Neal had become increasingly excited in stark contrast to his daughter who continued to stare suspiciously at the big guy in the red suit.

'It's your turn next!' Neal called out gleefully as he set her down and patted her on the head, sending her on her way.

'Daddy, I don't know if I want to talk to him…' Hope moaned, uncharacteristically shy.

'What? But you were so excited to see him' Neal said. 'Go on, it's your turn, baby. I'll be right here, waiting.'

Hope hesitantly started the short walk towards the old man in the red suit. She could hear him coughing loudly as she drew near and she watched with interest as he turned to speak to the little elf in green who stood nearby with a bucketful of candy canes.

'Can you _please_ get me something to drink' he said, his voice boisterous. 'I'm _dying_ here!'

Hope's mouth flew open and she stopped walking, dead in her tracks. She looked back at her dad, waving to her, and the next thing she knew she was flying back to the safety of his arms and she'd hidden her face shamelessly in the crook of his neck.

WCWCWC

'Why do you suppose she's acting this way?' Sara asked as the couple lay in bed later that night. 'She wasn't like this last year.'

'I don't know' Neal admitted. 'It was like she'd seen a ghost. She got halfway there and she came running back into my arms and held on to me like she was afraid he was going to sic his elf on her.'

'Maybe it's just a phase she's going through' Sara said. 'Remember how she was afraid of trick or treating a couple of years ago.'

'I suppose...' Neal responded, sounding worried.

Sara stretched out on her back, lazily running her hand over her protruding stomach.

'Okay, now that was _definitely_ a kick' she said as she grabbed Neal's hand and placed it on her baby bump just as the subtle movement came to an abrupt end.

'I just caught the tail end of that' Neal said with a goofy smile as he turned in bed to place his face up against his wife's belly. 'Hey baby boy, do it again. Come on, do it again for Daddy' he pleaded as Sara rolled her eyes.

'Oh, you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout…' Neal sang softly as he ran his hand up and down Sara's belly to the rhythm of the holiday tune.

Sara giggled and the baby moved once again and this time Neal felt the ripple effect, his hand lingering on Sara's belly.

'See' Neal declared proudly as he kissed her stomach. 'I told you he liked my singing.'

WCWCWC

On Tuesday morning, Neal saw his wife off to work and set off to get his daughter to school. It was the last day before Christmas break and they'd all been looking forward to the holiday concert at Hope's school that evening. Peter and Elizabeth were all set to join them and even Uncle Mozzie had promised to be there for the big night.

Neal had spent - or was that _wasted_ \- two and a half hours the previous day, following his wife to a meeting at a client's home out on Staten Island. He'd noticed the same, nondescript FBI agent lurking around and, once again, he'd barely escaped his clutches as the two of them scurried from the scene once Sara reemerged from the large estate in Todt Hill. The inept agent had given chase but had been no match for the ex-con and Neal had managed to slip away, disappearing from sight while Inspector Clouseau scrambled to catch up with him.

The mystery deepened and Neal was intent on finding out why the Bureau would be following Sara to a routine meeting with a client. If the FBI felt the need to follow his wife, she must be on to something pretty dangerous and this spurred Neal on even further to figure out what this was all about.

Neal had the distinct impression that whatever mysterious case Sara had been keeping from him, it would be wrapping up any minute. She'd been particularly restless for the past day or so - as she always was before a big recovery - and his spider senses were tingling like crazy, telling him she was on the verge of moving in for the kill. He sure as hell hoped it would happen soon; with school out, he couldn't very well see himself dragging Hope along on any recon operations - the kid had loose lips and…. well, everybody knew what loose lips did.

Neal checked himself out in the mirror, looking very unlike himself, clad in a nondescript grey jacket with a baseball cap on his head and a pair of large, clunky glasses that masked most of his face. His disguises had grown more and more elaborate as time went on, all in the hopes of remaining incognito. Regrettably, Mozzie's paranoia seemed to have rubbed off on him…

If he was going to keep his wife safe without her knowledge, he'd have to keep a safe distance yet be ready to pounce at a moment's notice - if the situation so required. If everything went according to plan, she'd make the recovery without incident and she would never need to know he'd been lurking in the wings the whole time. Neal knew all too well that if Sara ever got wind of his covert operation, he would find himself on her naughty list - something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He took one last look at the man in the mirror and headed out to Manhattan to start surveilling his wife.

WCWCWC

'You let him slip away again! Who is this guy, Houdini?' Peter Burke roared as his probie cowered nearby. 'I have a good mind to take you off surveillance and put you on desk duty - indefinitely.'

'Agent Burke, please' Wilson begged. 'I've got this; please give me another chance.'

'This guy has slipped out of your grasp twice now' Peter declared, unnecessarily.

'Sir, he hasn't made any moves on Ms Ellis and you can count on me to keep her in my sights. Nothing's going to happen to her on my watch, I swear' the hapless man pleaded.

Peter paced back and forth behind his desk and ran a hand through his greying hair. Apparently, Sara's intuition that she was being followed had basis in fact. Peter thought of Neal and how he would absolutely kill him if something happened to Sara when Peter _knew_ all along she was being followed. He looked up to see the probie, standing there, quaking in his boots.

They were closing in on Sullivan - the man had been spotted once again talking to his fence and all indications were that a swap was imminent. With just a few days until Christmas, Peter needed all his staff on the case and didn't have the manpower to put anybody else on Sara; instead, he decided to put the fear of God in the newbie agent.

He walked around the desk, getting close enough to the man to kiss him and he put his finger up to his face, wagging it menacingly. 'If something happens to Sara Ellis, I will hold you personally responsible and I will see to it that your life is miserable for the next twenty-five years. Is that understood?' he shouted.

'Yes, sir. You can count on me. Nothing will happen to her and I'll get this guy, I swear, sir' he said as he shook in his wingtips.

'Go!' Peter shouted as all eyes down in the bullpen turned to see what all the commotion was about.

Peter took a deep cleansing breath, staring down at his phone and debating which was worse: the wrath of Sara Ellis if he ratted her out or the ire of Neal Caffrey if he ever found out his best friend had been holding out on him. He wavered for a moment and picked up the phone.

WCWCWC

Neal was sitting in a little diner across from the offices of Sterling Bosch, waiting for Sara to make an appearance when his phone rang. He glanced down: Peter… he would just have to wait. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off his target, even for a minute. Sara could appear and slip away if he wasn't careful and he couldn't afford to be sloppy when there was so much at stake. Upon taking his position by the window, Neal had immediately spotted Inspector Clouseau conspicuously hanging around the entrance of the office building, trying to keep warm while he ostensibly waited for Sara to emerge - the master of discretion this guy was _not!_

At around 1:30, Sara stepped out onto the sidewalk, and even from a distance, Neal recognized the fierce determination in her eyes. This was it and Neal threw a couple of bucks on the table and headed out, making sure the clueless tail didn't spot him.

Game on.

WCWCWC

'Peter, Ronnie the Shark is making a move' Jones announced breathlessly as he stepped into Peter's office.

Peter grabbed for his coat jacket, his blood pumping. Hopefully, this was the beginning of the end for Sullivan; he'd jerked the FBI around long enough.

'Let's go, people!' he called out.

WCWCWC

A procession of cars, coming from all different directions, descended on the abandoned Navy Hospital in Brooklyn. The majestic building, built in Greek Revival style circa 1830, sat loftily on Williamsburg Street, a mere shadow of its former self. It had been unused for decades yet it still stood proudly despite the peeling paint, leaks and damaged wood and plaster one could spot when looking through the dirty windows from the nearby street.

Dick Shearer sat in a cab, on his way to making the illicit purchase of Botticelli's 'The Annunciation' for an obscenely rich client of his from the Hamptons. The 1489 painting had disappeared from the Uffizi Gallery in Florence fifty years earlier and had recently resurfaced on the black market. He hoped for a quick and painless transaction and he nervously tapped the top of the briefcase which sat on his lap, aware of the ridiculous sum of money hidden therein - a precursor to the commission he stood to make on the transaction. He smiled as he spied the many shoppers out on the busy sidewalks of downtown Brooklyn and he thought ahead to his own priceless shopping spree.

Ronnie the Shark made his way to the drop on foot. The night before, he'd managed to slip his FBI tail long enough to obtain the goods from Jerome Sullivan in a dark deserted alley in the Bronx. Despite his eagle eye, he hadn't spotted the new tail which he'd grown and was presently walking a block behind him, having alerted Agent Peter Burke of the imminent transaction. The tempera and gold wood painting which was relatively small, was tucked under Ronnie's left arm as he made his way to the appointed location and dreamt of his plans for his healthy cut of the profits. The streets were full of last minute Christmas shoppers and Ronnie looked just like anyone who'd made the purchase of a small painting as a gift for his wife or girlfriend… or maybe, his mother.

Sara Ellis sat in the big yellow cab as it left Manhattan and headed out to Brooklyn. She'd noticed her FBI tail standing nearby when she'd left the Sterling Bosch offices and she hoped he was right behind her. If anything went wrong or if the person who'd been stalking her materialized, she'd have someone from the Bureau nearby to keep things from going south. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins at the thought of the important recovery she was about to make. There would be a big commission for her, to say nothing of the bragging rights associated with recovering such an important piece. She patted her purse, feeling for her trusty baton and her hand moved to rub her belly as baby Ellis-Caffrey made his presence known. 'It's all good, baby' she whispered as she caressed her baby bump. 'It's all good.'

Malcolm Wilson rode to Brooklyn in a New York City cab right behind the one occupied by Sara Ellis. He reasoned that the best way to keep the woman safe from her stalker was to have her in his sights at all times. He needed to prove to his boss that he could handle the assignment he'd been given - no matter how mundane it was. He hadn't yet spotted her stalker but that didn't mean the creep couldn't reappear at any time and Wilson was determined to collar the guy and drag his sorry ass down to the Federal Building for a thorough interrogation, if it was the last thing he did.

Peter Burke was driving the first of three unmarked FBI vehicles that were on their way to the meet. Although Sullivan would have stayed well away from the actual exchange, the FBI would be there to recover the goods and they could lean - hard - on Ronnie to get him to divulge his source. Peter had more than a few tricks up his sleeve and he and the team had managed to amass a mountain of evidence against the small time fence, plenty of leverage to get him to talk.

Mozzie walked nonchalantly down the streets of Brooklyn on his way to the swap. The best part of ratting out those associates unlucky enough to be on his black list was watching from the sidelines as Sara swooped in and interrupted the trade, leaving the fence with nothing but dust as he watched his share of the profits evaporate. Of course, the next best thing was the not so negligible amount of cash Sara would send his way for his important part in the recovery. He grinned broadly as he walked down the street; it was like taking candy from a baby.

Neal kept some distance between himself and the taxi he'd seen Inspector Clouseau climb into. He congratulated himself on taking his own car into Manhattan, giving him the freedom to follow Sara's tail without being noticed in a big yellow cab. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he followed the cab out of Manhattan towards Brooklyn. He hoped his part in the exchange would be limited to watching, unobserved, as Sara successfully recovered the piece without incident and that he would be able to sneak out and make his back to White Plains in time to pick up their daughter, with no one the wiser. He reminded himself that he had Peter on speed dial if things really went wonky; but this was Sara - and she'd done this hundreds of times before.

WCWCWC

Sara entered through the main door of the decrepit building and followed the sound of men's voices echoing in the cavernous building, her hand firmly clasping her baton. The element of surprise always played in her favor during recoveries and most of the time, the unsuspecting buyers caved when they saw her materialize, clutching the dangerous looking cudgel and producing the paperwork which gave her legitimate rights to the goods they were about to illicitly purchase. Fences, for their part, were notorious for just scurrying away as fast as their nasty little legs could carry them. She'd never had the dubious honor of meeting Ronnie the Shark but he was surely not unlike every other spineless fence she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting and she sped up her steps as the voices grew louder.

Mozzie had gotten to the swap with plenty of time to spare and had watched as first, the buyer, then Ronnie, had arrived at the appointed time and place. The old hospital, although abandoned, was still full of furniture and built in cupboards and shelves and he'd easily found a hiding place which afforded him a front row seat to the proceedings. He'd been listening to the brief exchange between the two men, waiting anxiously for Sara to make her appearance, when he finally heard her telltale stiletto heels click clacking in the distance.

Neal, on the other hand, had sneaked into the building through the back alley and listened for any telltale signs of life, picking up on the unfortunate sound of rats scurrying nearby. He winced in disgust, pushing ahead as he picked up on the sound of low voices off in the distance. He'd observed Inspector Clouseau sneaking in ahead of him, following Sara into the building through the main door and he endeavoured to stay well out of sight of the not so secret agent who seemed intent on nabbing him. All he wanted was to make sure his wife was safe without being spotted by anyone - including the inept agent and _especially_ the beautiful insurance agent with the bad temper who was carrying his baby.

He followed the voices, finding a nearby nook to hide in and he watched with fascination as Sara appeared in front of the men wielding the god-awful baton of hers which always made him cringe.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen' Sara declared, voice confident, as she came face to face with the two men.

Ronnie the Shark was a lot less scary than his name had led her to believe and he immediately took a step back upon seeing Sara appear with that threatening baton in her hand.

'I believe you have something that belongs to me' she continued, sounding fearless.

Neal hadn't had much of an opportunity to see his wife in action and he stood in silence, holding his breath, mesmerized by the woman in front of him who could slip so seamlessly from intimidating insurance investigator to loving mommy to hot, sexy wife.

The two men she'd interrupted watched in surprise as Sara stood, fearless, baton in one hand and an official looking document in the other. Neither one of them seemed particularly inclined to disagree with her rights to the painting and the buyer took a step back and was about to do a runner when there was a clatter and suddenly six FBI agents were surrounding the group, guns drawn.

'FBI! Hands up!' Jones' voice was heard echoing throughout the abandoned building.

The fence froze and watched as Peter Burke made his way to stand immediately in front of him.

'I'll take that!' Peter said as he reached for the painting Ronnie the Shark was still holding in his trembling hands.

'Peter! What are you _doing_ here?' Sara called out, shocked and watching in dismay as the agent reached for the coveted treasure.

'I could ask you the same thing' Peter responded as he cuffed the fence who'd begun to moan and bare his teeth at the FBI agent.

'This is _my_ recovery' Sara said, obviously pissed off at the interruption.

'Well…' Peter answered as he gestured towards the painting in his hands. 'I'm afraid that, for the moment, this is evidence in a high profile investigation.'

'Peter!' she whined just as a sound was heard nearby and Jones instinctively aimed his weapon in that direction, watching as Mozzie appeared, hands up in the air.

'Don't shoot!' he mumbled. 'I'm just… an observer.'

'Mozzie?' Peter called out as the bespectacled man crawled out of his hiding place. 'What the hell -'

Sara rolled her eyes; this was turning into a circus and to make matters worse, Peter was preparing to walk away with the painting she'd been waiting so long to recover.

There was a sudden commotion and newly minted agent Wilson appeared, pulling along an unwitting intruder, against his will.

'Agent Burke!' the probie called out, beyond pleased with himself, as he dragged the stalker by the arm. 'I've got him!'

He shoved the newcomer towards the middle of the room while Peter and Jones aimed their weapons at the stranger, uncertain of his intentions. Wilson reached over and removed the man's baseball cap as his oversized glasses fell to the ground with a loud clunk.

'Neal!' Peter screamed, shocked to find his best friend under the subterfuge.

'Peter!' Neal countered, just as surprised.

'Neal?' Sara's voice was heard over the confusion as she stood there, shocked to see her husband standing there looking like a … well, like a stalker.

'Sir?' Malcolm added, confused.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

'You look beautiful, honey' Sara said as she straightened the halo on top of Hope's thick, wavy head of hair.

Hope nodded and scratched her forehead, causing the halo to slip once again, to her mom's dismay.

'Hope, don't touch it. You'll make it fall off again' her mom said, smoothing her hair.

'But it's itchy' Hope complained as her hand returned to scratch herself once again.

'Children!' Mrs. Winters called out as the kindergarteners prepared to step onto the stage.

'Now, go on honey. And have fun!' Sara called out, waving her daughter off.

The weather had dipped to below freezing outside but it paled in comparison to the frigid conditions indoors as everyone involved reacted to what had happened during the takedown that afternoon.

Sara was livid at Neal for treating her like a five-year-old and for putting the fear of God in her by stalking her all over town for the past several weeks. She was also miffed at Peter for barging in and commandeering the priceless painting, depriving her of her well deserved commission to say nothing of the bragging rights associated with its recovery.

Peter was angry at Neal for wasting government resources and for acting like a twelve year old by running around Manhattan in various disguises, spying on the cute red-haired girl and he was annoyed at Mozzie for lurking around a potentially dangerous crime scene.

Neal, on the other hand, was pissed off at Peter for keeping Sara's secret from him and he was angry at Mozzie for putting Sara in such a dangerous situation. But most of all, he was furious with his wife for going behind his back and asking for Peter's help instead of confiding in him.

And Mozzie…. well, Mozzie was angry at both Sara and Peter because his sweet deal had disintegrated right before his eyes, his only vindication being that Ronnie the Shark had been left empty handed and had been forced to submit to a grilling interrogation by Peter and his team.

Sara made her way back to join the rest of the family, already seated in the school gymnasium. She excused herself as she slipped into the row of chairs, gingerly maneuvering around Neal, ignoring him as she stepped over his feet and took a seat between Elizabeth and Mozzie.

Neal sat, face stern, staring ahead in angry silence while Peter crossed his arms decisively over his chest and glared over at his best friend. Sara's face, which had turned a shade of red to rival her hair, continued to pout, refusing to look at either of the two men as Mozzie remained uncharacteristically quiet and sullen.

The awkward silence grew unbearably loud and Elizabeth Burke finally spoke up, just as the concert was about to begin.

'That's enough!' she exclaimed, her anger directed at all of them. 'Stop it! All of you! Forget your petty little quarrels; we're here for Hope, so start acting like grownups, for heavens sake!'

Sara gave Neal a scathing look and he glared back at her, then at Peter, whose face softened a little in response to his wife's scolding.

The group of four-year-olds stepped onto the stage as the lights grew dim and everyone settled back to enjoy the show. Mrs. Winter's kindergarten class was first up and Neal and Sara both looked up as Hope entered, her halo askew, and took her place amongst her classmates, front and centre as she waved excitedly to her parents. The class began to sing a classic rendition of 'Silent Night', Hope's loud but off-key voice dominating the group as Neal gave a small chuckle. For all her wonderful qualities, his daughter - not unlike her mom - couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and he glanced over to see Sara's face start to relax and smile as she gave him a furtive glance.

By the time the concert ended, everyone's inflamed passions had begun to abate and the group stood around waiting for Hope to emerge from backstage.

'El and I are going to have to go upstate right after Christmas' Peter confided to Neal and Sara, looking sad. 'My uncle Nick passed away this afternoon.'

'Oh, I'm so sorry' Sara said, finally thawing from her earlier hissy fit.

Peter shrugged; it was sad to be sure but Uncle Nick had lived a long and happy life.

'Well, he was active until the very end' he said. 'I guess that counts for something.'

Neal stepped forward and despite their recent dispute, he immediately opened his arms to hug his best friend.

'I'm sorry, Peter' he said as Hope suddenly appeared, carrying a candy cane and smiling broadly.

'Hey, here's the star of the show!' Mozzie exclaimed as Hope glowed.

'Did you hear, Daddy?' Hope said. 'I sang nice and loud.'

Neal gave Sara an amused look. 'You sure did, sweet pea, I'm sure they heard you all the way in the back.'

After the usual goodbyes and hugs all around, the group disbanded. Christmas Eve was just around the corner and there was still much to do to get ready for the big day. Hope seemed exhausted and she grew quiet on the way home in the car.

'I think she's asleep' Sara whispered as she glanced at their daughter in the back seat. 'She must be exhausted.'

Neal smiled. 'Yeah, that was quite the performance' he said, tongue in cheek.

'Well, luckily she's not lacking in other talents' Sara agreed with a chuckle. '…although, I think we can safely rule out opening night at the Kennedy Center.'

Hope sat quietly, eyes closed, pretending to sleep; she wasn't sure what her mom meant by that last comment; she relaxed as the motion of the car gently rocked her back and forth.

'It's really is too bad about old Nick, dying with just two days till Christmas' Neal mused as he thought of his best friend.

'Yeah' whispered Sara. 'All I can think of is that sleigh full of gifts that will never get delivered.'

Hope's eyes sprang open. Oh, no! Santa had died and there would be no Christmas!

WCWCWC

'So, are we good?' Peter asked as he sat across from Neal, sharing a cup of coffee on Christmas Eve morning.

'I suppose…' Neal answered, still irate that his best friend hadn't seen fit to tell him what had been going on. 'But how would _you_ feel if El told me something and I kept it from _you_?'

'Neal, I told you, Sara didn't want to worry you needlessly. We weren't even sure someone was really following her in the beginning. And in my defence, I _did_ try to call you just before the bust.'

'Well… I learned my lesson' Neal said. 'Sara said I was on the naughty list and she made me sleep on the couch last night.'

Peter raised his eyebrows in response; Neal had been playing with fire by following his wife around without her knowledge and it was no surprise Sara had blown a gasket upon finding out what he'd been up to.

'Don't you think you might want to dial it back, just a little?' Peter asked. 'Sara _is_ a grown woman and she's pregnant, Neal, she's not sick.'

Neal glared at his best friend; it was easier said than done when it came to controlling his impulses as it related to his wife and son's wellbeing.

Rather than to continue giving his best buddy unsolicited advice about his marriage, Peter thought it might be safer to change the subject.

'So, all set for the big day tomorrow?' Peter asked. 'Hope must be excited.'

Neal let out a sigh. 'Actually, she's been really upset. She cried herself to sleep last night. She's got it in her head that Santa died and that all the kids on the planet are going to be left high and dry.'

'Where did she ever get an idea like that?' Peter asked.

'I think it started when she overheard Sara and I talking about your uncle Nick being sick and then last night, we thought she was asleep in the car and we mentioned he had passed away. No matter what we say, though, she doesn't want to believe that we weren't talking about Santa.'

Neal grew thoughtful for a moment.

'You know Peter, there is _one_ thing you could do to make it all up to me…'

WCWCWC

'Shhh. Be quiet!' Neal whispered as he added some rouge to Peter's cheeks. 'Hope will hear you.'

The two men were crammed into the tiny powder room on the main floor of the Caffrey home as Neal adjusted the fluffy white beard on Peter's face and fixed the belt around his rotund form.

'Why did I ever agree to this?' Peter complained. 'This suit is like a furnace.'

'It's just for a few minutes. …and you'll make your goddaughter the happiest little girl in the world' Neal reminded him.

'Fine…' Peter grumbled as he fiddled with the pillow that had been stuffed down his pants.

Neal's face lit up at the thought of bringing his daughter out of her present funk. 'So listen, give us about ten minutes to get her settled and to finish reading her bedtime story, then open the front door and start jiggling those bells… loudly.'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it. What if she recognizes me?' Peter asked, suddenly concerned.

'She won't, Peter. We'll keep her up on the staircase. I just want her to get a glimpse of you putting the gifts under the tree and then you can leave' Neal explained. 'Oh, and don't forget to eat those cookies we left on the plate and make a fuss... say something about how good they taste. Hope and I made those together.'

Peter let out a long suffering sigh. 'Let's just get this over with. I'm dying in this suit.'

'Peter!' Neal reprimanded. 'Don't _say_ that! That's exactly the kind of talk that got us into this mess in the first place.'

Peter glared at Neal from under his fur trimmed hat and adjusted the big, fluffy beard one last time. How had he gotten himself into this mess or rather how had he let Neal talk him into this in the first place?

Neal opened the door to the powder and peeked out, making sure the coast was clear. 'Now, remember, give us ten minutes' he whispered as he stepped out.

He turned one last time, poking his head back in. 'A few well placed 'Ho Ho Hos' wouldn't be amiss' he added as an afterthought as Peter rolled his eyes and pushed him out the door.

Neal made his way up the stairs, Sara's soft voice growing louder as he finally arrived in the doorway to Hope's room, spying his wife and daughter huddled together under the blankets.

'Hey sweetie' Neal said as he joined them on the bed. 'How do you like your new Christmas book?'

Hope sniffled and Sara gave Neal the evil eye.

'How are we going to have Christmas without Santa' Hope sobbed, throwing herself into Sara's arms.

'Honey, we told you. Santa's fine and he's coming tonight like he does _every_ Christmas' Neal explained, running his hand through her hair.

'No, he won't' Hope cried. 'You're just saying that.'

Sara rolled her eyes; it had been a long twenty-four hours chock full of melodrama and she couldn't wait for it to all be over so she could get back to being annoyed at her husband for his latest indiscretion.

'Well, he could be here anytime, now' Neal warned, trying to sound excited. 'I think you should get some sleep and in the morning-'

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening in the distance and the faint sound of bells jingling.

'What was that?' he asked as Hope sat up to listen.

'That sounded like bells' Sara answered, right on script.

'Bells?' Hope repeated, wiping her eyes.

'Honey, you don't suppose it's Santa, do you?' Neal asked of Sara.

'Well…I don't know' she said, the excitement in her voice exaggerated. 'It's still a little bit early but… well, he does have a lot of places to visit tonight.'

Neal rolled his eyes at Sara's horrible delivery; this was no Oscar winning performance by any stretch of the imagination. She scowled back at him as Hope leaned in to listen.

'Come on, let's go see' Neal suggested as the three of them tiptoed out of the bedroom and out towards the staircase.

They could hear shuffling around down in the living room, boxes being moved over the sound of mumbling. Neal held Hope's hand as Sara followed, positioning themselves halfway down the staircase and sitting on the steps as Hope's eyes grew wide at the wondrous sight in the living room.

'It's Santa!' she whispered loudly as Neal and Sara looked on.

'Ho Ho Ho' came the booming voice in the living room. 'These are the best sugar cookies I've ever tasted. I'll have to ask Mrs. Claus to make some of these.'

Neal and Sara exchanged knowing looks; Peter was giving it all he had.

Hope's mouth dropped open as she listened to the jolly old man and her smile grew as she watched him move towards the tree in the corner of the room and remove some packages from his big, bulging bag.

'Now, let's see' they heard Peter's deep voice say. 'This is Hope Caffrey's house. Ah, yes… beautiful little girl. Dark brown wavy hair, blue eyes, pretty smile, sings like an angel.'

Hope looked from her mom to her dad, her eyes growing brighter by the second as she listened.

'She's been on the 'nice' list for four years now…' Peter continued, giving the performance of his life.

'Santa!' Hope screamed as she slipped out of her dad's grasp and ran down the rest of the steps.

Peter turned to face her, his wild eyes moving to Neal who'd caught up to her and was standing right behind his daughter. Neal had promised she'd stay at a distance and now, here she was, running towards him with her arms open wide as she threw herself around his legs and hugged him with all her might.

Sara and Neal watched with apprehension; now that she'd gotten a closer view, there was always the chance she might recognize her uncle Peter.

'Honey, Santa's in a hurry' Neal attempted, in an effort to distract the child from scrutinizing Old Saint Nick too closely.

'Ho, Ho, Ho' Peter clamoured as he patted the top of her head. 'Hope Caffrey, my little gingersnap!'

Neal was momentarily thankful that the only lights in the living room were those emanating from the brightly lit Christmas tree. That, and Peter's amazing delivery, would hopefully be enough to keep her from recognizing him and causing her to return to her previous state of despair.

'Santa, I thought you were sick' Hope confessed as she looked into his face.

'Sick? Of course not, my little darling' Peter answered as he patted his belly and gave a couple of more gratuitous Ho Ho Hos.

Neal watched in awe; if Peter ever wanted a second career, Broadway would be an obvious choice.

Sara intervened, taking Hope's hand and creating a bit of distance between the child and the old man but Peter was on a roll. He leaned in to look at Hope, suddenly fearless.

'Now, you continue to be a good girl next year. You're going to have a new little brother and he's going to need a big sister who can look out for him.'

'How did you know?' Hope asked, her eyes shiny and her smile bright.

Peter tapped the side of his nose. 'Santa knows everything' he said as he began to move towards the door.

Hope stood between her parents and stared, eyes wide and mouth agape as he prepared to walk away.

'Now, I better get back to the roof and check on Rudolph and the other reindeer. We have a lot more deliveries to make before tomorrow morning' he announced as he waved to the child and prepared to step out into the winter night.

Within seconds, a sound was heard as Peter ostensibly hit the side of the house with the shovel that sat at the front door and Hope's eyes widened even more as she threw herself into her dad's arms.

'That was Santa!' she shouted, now totally enchanted by the unexpected visitor they'd just had.

'Yes, it was, sweet pea!' Neal repeated. 'Yes, it was.'

WCWCWC

'So, does that get me off the naughty list?' Neal asked his wife as they made it to their bedroom, Hope finally sound asleep.

Sara gave him a wary smile. 'I suppose…'

'Well, maybe _this_ will help' he said as he moved to the closet and pulled out a wrapped gift. 'Merry Christmas, Repo!'

Sara couldn't hold back a smile as she took the brightly colored package in her hands and proceeded to unwrap it with the same look of excitement Neal had seen in his daughter's eyes just moment before.

'Oh, my God' she said as she discovered a sculpture of herself in all her pregnant glory. 'Neal, it's beautiful.'

Neal just smiled smugly; at times like this, it was better to just let the art speak for itself.

Sara continued, animated. 'I had no idea this is what you were working on.'

'Well…' Neal said modestly as he brought his hand to caress her stomach. 'I just love touching your belly so much…it felt like, this time, a painting just wouldn't cut it.'

'Oh, honey, I love it' Sara said as she threw her arms around Neal's neck.

'So… now, am I forgiven?' he asked with a mischievous smile.

She hummed. 'As long as that smile is the only naughty thing about you… I suppose.'

Neal moved in a little closer, slipping in under the blankets.

'On one more condition' she said as he frowned.

She rubbed her baby bump and gave him a sweet smile. 'This little guy wants his lullaby.'

Neal let out a sigh of relief. That, he could definitely do.

La fin


End file.
